Lonely
by Chut Up Bushes
Summary: After Chosen, but Spike and Anya lived. Spike is sulking one day and Anya joins him. Spike/Anya. Oneshot.


I am writing this because I feel that there is a lack of good Spanya fics out there. And to tell you this isn't one of those "Oh, I realized I've loved you all along" fics because that's just crap. No offense :)

Enjoy. Hopefully...

This is at a totally random time after Chosen, minus the death of Anya and combustion of Spike.

He didn't quite know when it hit him, but when it did his body seemed to give up and collapse into the chair beside him. He laid his head in his hands and let his eyes ease into staring at the wall. The blank wall. He felt kind of sad for the wall, there was nothing on it. Not a painting, not a design, not even a color. It was pale, lonely, forgotten. Just like himself.

The door swung open suddenly as light burst through the door. Spike shielded his face from the sunlight with his arms.

Anya was startled to find Spike alone in the dark room. She quickly slammed the door shut. "Sorry... I didn't realize you were in here."

Spike moved his arms back away from his face and let them rest in his lap. "No, it's fine. I should have put up a 'Soulless vampire present' sign on the door."

Anya moved farther into the dark room and settled onto the bed. "You're not soulless, Spike."

"Well, everyone here sure as hell treats me like I am." He sighed, regretting how pitiful he sounded, but he felt like he could talk to her, like he could let it out without getting any criticism, any roll of the eyes, any judgment. "Sometimes... most of the time these days, I feel so... lonely. And I know I sound perfectly ghastly, self pitying myself and all but-"

"No. No, I know what you mean. I- I'm just here. In this house. And nobody cares. Nobody could give a shit whether I'm here or not, I'd doubt they even notice if I left. Xander can pretend he cares, but all he really cares about is getting me back. And I can't-" She stopped, she didn't know what to say next, she didn't know what she planning to say. She could feel her eyes tearing up, feel her throat closing in on itself. Anya struggled to get the words out of her mouth, and they started coming in small, broken waves of speech. "It's like everyone thinks that I don't have feelings, that I don't... that I don't _feel_ like they do."

Spike knew what she was saying, he nearly knew what the next words from her mouth would be. He felt the same way, he was treated the same way. He moved from his chair and slunk in the darkness to sit beside her in the bed. His hand searched for her, and landed gently on her leg. He felt her jump, but something willed his hand to remain where it was.

"In a way, I think, we're both outsiders." He spoke, his voice heavy.

"It's all about the Scooby gang." She nodded.

"Prancing around like the bloody musketeers."

Anya looked down, and could feel her eyes drifting towards the hand on her leg. It felt so comforting to have a hand there, a hand that really meant to be there, that really meant to stop her hurt. She brought her hand down and laid it on his.

Spike could hear her start to cry again. He knew it was a risk, but he reached forward and slid an arm around her waist. It was a few seconds before she leaned into him.

Anya thought she had gone too far when she felt him pull away. He laid down on the bed.

Spike's hand reached out for hers. "Could you just lie here with me?"

Anya nodded, the tears coming slower. She lay down next to him, but he pulled her closer. His arm was around her and she turned into him, letting her arm fall across his stomach, her head resting on his chest.

Spike looked down at Anya, and her face seemed so true, so pure. Not fake like all the others. Her eyes were real. As if he was automated to do so, his hand reached down and wiped the tears from her face.

"Spike, you know that they would kill us."

"Kill us if what, love?"

"If we were ever together. And I mean _really_ together, not just sex on a table together. Not drunk together. Meaningful together."

"You ever thought about that?" He asked.

"About us, together? No. I would laugh before. But before was when I thought I could trust people. I know I can't now. Except you. Somehow, I trust you."

"Would you laugh now?"

"No, no I wouldn't laugh. I see you different than them. I do. And I know that I feel safer with you than anyone else right now."

"I wouldn't laugh either."

"You wouldn't?"

"No, I'd say we give it a shot."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

With that, he turned into her, his forehead against hers, their noses nearly touching. And the two fell asleep laying exactly that way.


End file.
